DEEP END
DECLAN
Troy had been prowling around the house for three days like a caged animal looking for weak points in the bars. I'd watched him circle from room to room, restless and edgy, moving like he was trying to walk off energy that had nowhere to go. The walls were closing in on him and he was about five minutes from doing something destructive just to feel like he had control over anything.
I made the decision over coffee while watching him stare out the kitchen window for the third time that morning.
“Get dressed,” I said. “We're going out.”
He turned to look at me with suspicion already written across his face. “Going where?”
“Out.”
“Riveting. Really paints a picture.” He crossed his arms. “Do I get a destination, or is that classified?”
“You'll see when we get there.” I set my mug down and grabbed my keys. “Just get dressed. Bring a jacket.”
“You planning to kidnap me?”
“If I were kidnapping you, I'd be doing a better job of it.”
“That's not actually comforting.” But the corner of his mouth shifted, the closest thing to a smile he'd allow this early in the morning. “What if I don't want to go?”
“Then you can stay here and keep wearing a hole in the floor. But I'm leaving in ten minutes either way.”
He stared at me for a long moment, weighing whether this was worth the argument. Then he pushed off the counter and headed upstairs without another word. I took that as agreement.
Twenty minutes later we were in my truck heading west out of the city. Troy sat in the passenger seat with his arms crossed, watching the buildings slide past like he could figure out our destination through sheer force of will.
“You going to tell me where we're going, or is the mystery part of the experience?”
“Athletic club. Guy I know lets me use the pool.”
“A pool.” He said it the way most people would say a crime scene. “You're taking me swimming.”
“That's generally what people do at pools.”
“Yeah, generally.” He turned to look at me. “That's a weird call for someone who could've just said, hey, do you want to go for a swim.”
“Would you have said yes?”
He opened his mouth and then closed it again.
“Right,” I said. “We're going swimming.”
He turned back to the window. “I don't swim.”
“You're about to.”
“I can't wait.” The flat delivery made it worse. “Truly. This is everything I hoped this morning would be.”
I kept my eyes on the road and said nothing. He'd be fine once he was in the water. He just needed to burn something off and this was the cleanest way I could think of to make that happen without it turning into a fight.
“So this is what, physical therapy?” he said after a beat.
“This is me trying to keep you from going insane in my house.”
“I'm fine.”
